


The Cricket's Song

by WitlessWriter7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crickets, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Self Confidence Issues, Summer, The Burrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 07:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitlessWriter7/pseuds/WitlessWriter7
Summary: Written for a Tumblr prompt. Ginny and Hermione go up to their room to avoid a potential prank and things turn out different than you'd expect.





	The Cricket's Song

Apollo’s chariot was well on its way to completing its journey and Hermione and Ginny had already retreated to Ginny’s bedroom on the third floor. Fred and George had been exchanging suspicious glances and grins they were attempting to disguise—which most likely meant they were on the prowl for test subjects. This was something the girls preferred to avoid since The Incident™. Ginny threw open the window and plopped on her bed.

Hermione lay on her stomach on the other bed, a spellbook in front of her. She had read the same passage 4 times already, but still hadn’t managed to absorb what it was saying. She absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger. The crickets outside chirped a constant chorus. Some were consistent in their song, while others intermittently interjected a sporadic backup refrain as if to emphasize some point lost in translation.

“Where’d you disappear to before lunch? Ron showed me this interesting fairy ring. I was just trying to look them up, but I can’t seem to concentrate,” Hermione asked, looking up at Ginny’s sudden motion.

When Ginny started searching the room for Extendable Ears™ before answering, Hermione became infinitely more interested in the reply. She closed her book and sat up, her eyes following Ginny’s hurried movement.

When she finally stilled, she asked, “You promise not to tell anyone?” She gazed into Hermione’s lightly freckled face, bronzed by the sun to the exact shade of coffee with just a dollop of milk, searching for proof that she could trust her with her secret.

Hermione was already an expert at keeping secrets. Anyone who could illegally brew the Polyjuice potion in a bathroom at a school crowded with people without anyone finding out, definitely knew how to keep some things to herself. “I promise,” she nodded, her butterscotch eyes wide with the certain solemnity that only the young have.

“I was flying. I snuck Fred’s broom out of the shed,” she whispered, a small self-satisfied grin twitching across her lips. Just a flicker of amusement at tricking her trickster brother, before it disappeared. If one wasn’t paying close attention they’d miss it. Hermione paid attention. Something about the bold confidence of the redhead captured Hermione’s attention in a way that her dry spellbook hadn’t. Hermione admired the way Ginny was sure of herself, in contrast to how Hermione was only sure of her opinions. The only time Ginny’s confidence seemed to slip into hiding was around Harry. Although, Hermione could objectively see the appeal of Harry—the messy inky waves, the pickle green eyes—she never felt the draw herself. Personally, she preferred flaming hair and earthy laughter.

“Aren’t you worried he’ll notice?”

“Nah. I’ve been doing this since I was six. I just take a different one each time,” Ginny leaned back on her pillow, arms folded behind her head. Her poster of Gwenog Jones looked on approvingly.

“I’ve never understood the appeal of flying.” Hermione admitted.

“It’s fantastic. You’re up in the air, feeling exhilarated and free, the wind whipping at you. It’s a thrill,” Ginny grinned, clearly reliving the experience.

“I’m not much of a thrill seeker.”

“Who are you kidding, Hermione? You’ve gone back in time to save a hippogriff and a convicted murderer. You’ve snuck past a three-headed dog. Hell, you’ve punched Malfoy in the face! What I wouldn’t give to do that.” Hermione considered her friend’s words.

“Yeah, but I’ve never sought those out. They just happen. I’m not confident like you.”

“Confident,” Ginny laughed, “I melt into a stammering puddle whenever Harry Potter walks in the room. All he knows about me is I squeak when I see him.” Hermione’s heart ached for her friend. She knew what it felt like to be interested in someone who didn’t see her as anything more. Hermione crossed the small space between the beds and sat down on the edge of Ginny’s. Ginny moved her arms from behind her head. Hermione placed her hand on Ginny’s strong, calloused one and rubbed her thumb in soothing circles.

“There’s no reason to get nervous around Harry, Ginny. He’s just like other guys. He doesn’t even wear matching socks. I know you grew up hearing stories about him, and he’s a legend in the wizarding world, but he’s just a normal person like us.” Ginny’s eyes were downcast and her mouth in a moue of disagreement.

“I know. I just… I just feel so… so laughable in comparison. Like who am I in comparison to one who’s defeated You-Know-Who? Who’s saved me from being possessed by just the mere memory of him?”

“Oh Ginny,” Hermione stroked her arm, feeling the solid definition from years of flying and roughhousing, “You’re so strong. Who else has survived possession by Voldemort? And to recover from it like you have is extraordinary. You’re beautiful and cast the strongest bat-bogey hex I’ve ever seen. You’re always in possession of yourself and know exactly who you are, and you’re not afraid of it. All you need to do to impress anyone is just be yourself, because you’re remarkable, Ginny. If someone doesn’t see it, then that’s on them. Don’t pine over someone who doesn’t notice how incredible you are.”

Ginny looked up shyly, her gaze full of wonder as if seeing Hermione for the first time, “Do you really see me like that?”

“Of course, Ginny. I’m not in the habit of lying to you.” Hermione’s hand was still cupping Ginny’s firm arm, and she gave it a gentle squeeze to emphasize her words.

The crickets were still humming their ancient melody outside. Ginny stared into Hermione’s caramel eyes that flashed with honeyed gold in the dim light. How had she not noticed how warm and beguiling they were before. How they stared at her as if she were a sight worthy of awe like a sunrise seen from the top of the pyramids or an ancient masterpiece lost for hundreds of years? In the same way that you tune out the sound of crickets because you hear them every night, but when you listen closely you notice the intricacies of the ballad sung for millennium, Ginny was finally tuning in to the minutiae of Hermione Granger. How her wild curls framed her delicate face. The sprinkling of freckles across her cheekbones, like the finishing embellishment that complete an artwork. Most of all, she noticed Hermione’s eyes shining at her with earnest admiration. “You think I’m beautiful?” Ginny queried.

“Definitely.” Hermione nodded with firm intensity.

Ginny tipped her face up, placed her solid hands on Hermione’s face, and slowly guided their lips together. The kiss was slow, sweet, and all the more beautiful for their inexperience. Hermione’s heart beat within her chest like the soft, frantic fluttering of hummingbird wings. Her face heated and she brought her hands up Ginny’s face, rejoicing in the kiss. Surely the twins had been successful in dosing her with a Patented Daydream Charm™, because nothing this amazing could happen in real life.

When they finally separated, they rested their foreheads together, ragged breaths mingling as they composed themselves. Gwenog winked at them from her poster. Hermione had ended up lying beside Ginny on her bed. Ginny pulled her closer and rested her head on her shoulder. They stayed like that as they slowly drifted off to sleep.


End file.
